


Memories and Dreams

by Lawful_Neutral_5000



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Ash is jewish, Ash is stereotypically bi and Steve basically said Sal is too its just unconfirmed, Baby's First Fanfic, Basically if Steve writes a happy ending hes doing it wrong, Bittersweet Ending, Capital Punishment, Come Back To Me, Conspiracy Theories, Demons, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Ghosts, If You Squint - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Judaism, M/M, Murder, Plothole Fill, Prison tatoos, Realistic, Reanimation, References to Depression, Religion, Sal and Travis kiss, Sal has prison tattoos, Sal is a stupid bitch for Ashley Campbell, Sal is the reason im not gay, Salarry, Salash can happen ok, SalxAsh, Self-Sacrifice, Slow Burn, Soda and Chug come back, Theories, Titles are soundtrack titles, cryptid soup, from the game, heteros are happening, im just not writing incest ok GET OFF MY BACK, im just waiting for age 22 sal fisher to choke me out and make me his bottom bitch, im love you!, revival, salash, then murder my entire apartment complex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-26 02:02:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17736908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lawful_Neutral_5000/pseuds/Lawful_Neutral_5000
Summary: Everyone has regrets, and Sal Fisher has unfinished business. Risks are taken when all efforts to stop the cult turned futile, causing everyone to question their own moral compasses.An alternate, darker ending to what I assume Steve will do. This is the ending that I think is the most realistic as it attempts to solve many potholes. Be warned there is graphic swearing and violence, as well as references to self-harm and suicide.





	1. Remnants in Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> (a/n: this is my first fanfic so please let me know what i should improve! thanks!)

Chapter 1

Remnants in Dreams

* * *

 

If Ashley Campbell had gotten an ounce of sleep after Sal's execution she certainly had no recollection of it. Each day was spent in the tree-house with the ghost of Larry in silence, and she drifted between hallucinatory dreams and vivid images of the day at such a constant that the two felt indistinguishable from one another. As much as Larry wanted to comfort his beloved friend he truly felt invisible, even if he knew she acknowledged his presence. The air was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Within that air Ashley breathed in an incredulous amount of information regarding the history of The Devourers of God Cult. The threads woven through the dark web choked her out of any desire for food or water. Larry would bring her meals but she would leave them to rot. Night and day blended together. She was losing her grip quicker than she could find leads on how to reverse Todd's condition.

"You should get some sleep Ash. You've been without sleep for over 48 hours."

"Shut up Larry."She kept her words short and coarse. Her plan was to revive Sal. In order to do so she needed to know the mind of a man who has been lost for quite some time. Todd was institutionalized, but still in contact with The Red Demon. He was the host. If Ash could somehow bring Todd back then he could feed her everything he knew about The Red Demon's knowledge, as they shared a singular mind and knowledge for so long. The cult's dark prophet would know more about reanimation than any paper on it's followers. If Ashley was to truly undergo the penalty for letting her friend die, then she would offer up her suffering for him. It didn't matter if her intentions for curing Todd were immoral. She knew she was doing the right thing. She was doing everything for Sal, and she had to. No one else could.

"I just don't think this is healthy-"

"Oh you're one to talk about health Larry. Killing yourself isn't the best way to live I must say." Larry was utterly incapable with taking it personally considering the state that Ashley was in. She was sick, clearly. When Sal died she immediately became incoherent with her words and aggressive towards Larry, huddling up in the tree-house as if it was the entire world. Larry searched the Addison Apartments for anything he could retrieve to help speed up his friend's investigation. He even went down into the apartment basement, where he had been years before, ironically enough on a search of his own. He was searching for Ashley. Even though she was found, when he watched her lose herself in her own guilt so terribly. . .he thought he had lost her again.

"Ash. . .Ash. . .Ash!"

"What?!"

"Your nose is bleeding." She looked down at her papers. Larry was right. She was bleeding so heavily that a hole had soaked right through the paper, but she was too obsessed to notice. She grabbed a pocket tissue pack from her jacket pocket and leaned forward. Larry came over and wiped off her books for her. Ashley remained silent, making no motion to even move the messy brown hair that covered her face as she leaned over. She knew that her ability to work was deteriorating but what choice did she have? Nobody could do this but her. Frustration welled up and Larry took notice in her change of expression. It tore him apart.

"Have you even asked Sal if he wants to come back?" He asked. Ashley turned to him with a quizzical expression painted on her. How could she have seen Sal's ghost? How would Sal know where she was? Could she see him again? Larry's one question was singular in form but multiple in meaning for the woman. She couldn't even begin a proper response. It was as if staying cooped up in the tree-house for so long had been eating away at her brain cells, only to spit them back out at her after they had 'Sal' printed all over them. She dabbed her book with a tissue while struggling to respond to the stunning question.

"What does that even mean?"

"Did you even consider if he wants to come back?"

"No Larry, I haven't seen him at all."

"Rosenberg broke the curse that bound me to my place of death, but that happened years before Sal was even dead. He's here, as in the execution room. I had assumed you went to him and asked before you came up here."

"No, I. . .his ghost must not have returned until a few minutes after he was executed. By then I was already on my way."

"So you've been doing this without even asking him."

"Well. . .I. . ." Ashley trailed off in search for a defense. She had just assumed Sal would want to come back to the world of the living. He wasn't a suicide death like Larry, his ghost was the product of a misuse of capital punishment. Sal Fisher was a mass murderer by definition so a prolonged jail time would only be lawful. The morality of his actions were questionable to outsiders but there was no reason to go so far. In his mind, Sal was doing the world a favor. The Devourers of God had gotten their way. If he hadn't slaughtered the entirety of the Addison Apartments then the curse the cult attached to the forsaken souls would only spread across the world until every single person was damned to hell. He wasn't a dangerous man with ambiguous intentions. In a twisted way he was the hero to 7 billion people. Even if his life would have been spent in a prison cell there was no reason to withhold his right to live.

"He was executed Larry! S-Sal was-hopeless, helpless! If you had seen the look on his face when the jury announced the verdict-"

"Ash, he wears a prosthetic mask. Poker face is his default expression." Ashley kept quiet. What was Larry trying to say-that she was doing it for herself? She didn't know. She couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"W-what are you getting at? Are you saying Sal wanted to die?"

"No, I'm his step-brother you idiot. I'm asking if you're doing this for Sal or doing this for you." That was surprising. It had never occurred to Ashley in a million years that Larry would accuse her of doing something so selfish. It broke her, then engraved her, partially because she couldn't say it was the ladder without being unsure. In her mind it was all for Sal. It was all for him. Always. Even so, that was the ghost of his step-brother revealing her true intentions to herself, and she felt it would be even more egotistical to assume she knew better than Sal's family. Still, she wasn't fully ready to admit to herself that she had skewed intentions. What she did admit was that she wanted Sal Fisher alive. Who wouldn't? Anyone and everyone that met the young man was immediately smitten with him. If you need proof all you have to do is ask Travis Phelps. Sal is an amazing person, described by many as a gorgeous soul. His voice was deep and coarse but his words were gentle like a dainty flower. Music sounded all the more sweeter when he played it, no matter how heavy the metal was. Without his mask his glow still made his disfigured face beautiful so much that Ashley would try to talk him into going without it, much to his reluctance. He was her best friend, plain and simple. The woman cupped her cheeks in her hands and began to rub her face in an effort to wipe away the yucky tiredness that glued to her.

"I. . .I want Sal back."

"That's pretty obvious.

" "Have. . .have you talked to him?" Ashley asked. Larry glanced to the side, biting his lip in apparent. . .shame? Why wouldn't Larry talk to Sal? Ashley began to ask herself those questions as Larry's change in expression only intrigued her even more. "No, I haven't actually. I have a feeling he doesn't want to see me. When he was locked up I didn't visit him once. I had failed him-I didn't know what to say after that. He's going to kill me when he sees me, and I'm already dead." Ashley's bleeding heart instinctively went to defending Larry's actions.

"Well It's not like I've done any better-"

"Yes, yes you have! You only testified against him to save him from capital punishment by getting him in an institution. Obviously you failed but you tried. Sal knows that. I'm. . .I'm just a terrible step-brother."

Larry's explanation of Ashley's actions came as a pleasant surprise to Ashley. She had never thought of her actions in such sensible terms. To her, it was always that she had simply testified against her best friend in court. There was no more twisting it or sugar-coating it to make the testimony all the merrier. However, Larry's take on Ashley's motives did make sense to her. Ashley certainly did question the morality of what she did while she was doing it, but she never did it to hurt Sal intentionally. All that time she had told herself that he just needed help. "Larry, you aren't just Sal's step-brother, you're his brother. Like his spiritual other half, platonic soulmate or something. He won't think of you as any less because of your choices." Larry still wasn't buying it, and it showed in his posture. His relationship with Sal was like nothing that Ashley had ever seen. They were never seen without each other to the point that they mimicked identical twins, even though they weren't related. Larry's eyes were heartbreaking to Ashley.

". . .Look, you won't be a terrible brother if you agree to come with me to see him. Honestly, I think you're right. I'm definitely missing something," Ash said whilst keeping her eyes glued to her computer screen which displayed an ominous profile of Jim Johnson. There was such little information on him across the interwebs. There was too little information for it to be an unintentional error. Sal knew more than them. He wasn't Todd smart, but he was very bright. Nobody knew who had connections to Addison Apartments like he did. Ashley was getting nowhere. She stood up.

"Where are you going?" Larry asked.

"To take a shower. Start walking to the Nockfell Prison. Is the SuperGearboy still in the chest?"

"Uh, yeah." Ashley walked across the tree house to the wooden chest where the SuperGearboy rested, virtually untouched for the last three years. Among many other artifacts that accumulated she came across a picture of Sal along with the rest of the gang. Travis was accidentally shot in the background of the group photo, angrily chewing what looked to be a bologna sandwich. He was a weird kid, but he was present to hear Sal's testimony. Next to him was Maple. Maple. . .Ashley couldn't tell her what they were doing. If Sal did end up coming back, Ashley knew Maple would do anything within her abilities to make sure that his liberation of death wouldn't last for more than three minutes.

"We can't tell Maple we're doing this," Ashley said while shaking her head. Sal murdered the woman's husband and daughter. She knew it didn't matter to Maple if Sal was being forced to or not.

"That's understandable-wait!" Larry clapped his hands together after taking them out of his pocket for the first time in. . .actually, Ashley had never seen his hands outside of his pockets.

"What?"

"The day Chug and Soda died, I saw them from the other side while they were still alive. Their souls were not infected like the rest of the ones at the apartments. I don't think they were affected by the curse."

"How? It affected every soul in the apartment except for Sal-"

"I just know it. There's no way Sal could have known, everyone looked the same from the living world. On the other side though, everyone that was affected was wrapped in this black goop and their eyes glowed. They just looked more like. . .normal. If there's a way to bring Sal back, then-" Ashley's face lit up for the first time in months.

"Oh my Gosh! Larry you genius!"

"First let's see if it's possible. We won't get Maple's hopes up only to have them squashed by the reality that we actually can't revive the dead."

"Right, right. I'll start going right now!" As soon as Ashley left the tree house, Larry picked up the photograph she had left atop the wooden planks. It was their last lunch together as seniors. Sal looked uncomfortably stiff as if he had frozen up when Ash put her arm around him. Sal had a preference for wearing his pigtails even as a young adult on the account that it made him look "like a creepy little weirdo" when combined with his mask. Larry himself was doing some ridiculous gang symbol on the ground in front of them while Todd crossed his arms, keeping the cross monotone face he kept in every picture. Neil was next to him, obviously trying to get him to smile. Chug and Maple were holding hands. There was also. . .a dark patch. Under closer inspection Larry found it to be a scratchy-looking mass of blackness with scarlet eyes. It was the Red Eyed Demon, not that Ash could see the film from the other side. He slipped it into his pocket and shoved it into the back of his mind.

Ashley's ride home was noisy-well, it was louder than motorcycle rides usually usually are. The conversation with Larry hinted at a future of getting the gang together, which would prove difficult. Although Neil was present in court, Ashley had not spoken a word to him. He looked as if talking was the last thing on his mind, and the first thing was making sure Sal stayed in solitary confinement. Of course Ashley would compromise for that outcome instead of the one Sal received, although the look on Neil's face gave Ashley the idea that his motives weren't that of saving an innocent man from execution. Maple was a wild card at that point. Regardless of the possibility of it, there was no way Ashley could say for sure if reviving the widow's husband and daughter was even moral.

There was one person in the back of Ashley's mind that she knew to be a dependable asset. Travis Phelps, the uptight son of a strict protestant preacher who grew up with an ambiguous moral compass, blackened rage, and a little crush on Sal Fisher. Although she didn't converse with him as much as Sal Fisher had, she knew that he would drop everything to help her friend in any way he could. Despite kindly declining Travis' feelings, Sal always made it a point to hang out with Travis whenever he saw the blonde sitting alone at lunch, and to give Travis all of his bologna sandwiches after the bologna incident their junior year. Sal genuinely enjoyed being around Travis and valued him as a person despite Travis punching him in the face for "being a faggot" ten minutes before Sal found Travis' love letter in the trash. He was just an incredibly sweet soul. If they were going into the uncharted territory of reanimation they should bring alone someone vested in being righteous. A priest would suit that role well.

If there was one more person that was weighing on Ashley's mind, it was the bald man sitting behind Neil. Larry and Ashley were very close, and Ashley had memorized the face of Larry's father just from photographs. The man in court looked nearly identical to Larry's father right down to the mustache that he last was seen sporting in worn photographs from over a decade ago. The doppelganger was so indistinguishable in appearance that it was almost too surreal to be Jim Johnson himself. It did make a bit of sense that he would be there, as his ex-wife was a victim of Sal's murders. However, if the man truly did just leave, there was no way she wouldn't see him with the policemen searching for Larry's dead body. His only son committed suicide and the closest he ever got to the town was attending court for a virtually unrelated issue. Ashley couldn't talk to Larry about it. . .he would probably get upset. Actually, Sal would be the one to know who that man was. He always knew more than he was letting on, and it showed in his final testimony. Larry faded into the wall, seemingly losing his physical form after following Ashley into the building. "Larry?" She whispered, preferring not to draw attention to herself. She felt him pull on her arm.

"I don't want to scare anyone so I've got one foot in the other side over here. Don't worry, I can still hear you. Just don't make them think you're insane or you'll end up like Sal. Of course if you want to get in the room that bad, that just might be the way to-" Ashley cut off Larry by aggressively adjusting the sleeve of the arm he was holding. When walking to the front desk she made eye contact with an officer who looked to be in her late thirties. Her hair reeked of coffee and nicotine but her smile showed no falter. Her name tag read as officer Nellie. Ashley nodded at her and walked towards the prison front desk with confident strides. If she was going somewhere she wasn't supposed to be, the trick would be to make people believe that she was the only place she could be. The woman's eyes snapped wide open at the rare occasion of a visitor.

"Hello, My name is Ashley Campbell."

"Oh, Ashley!" Of course the receptionist knew who Ashley was. Any effort to keep the famous killer from being executed was done solely by her. There was no one else on his side. When the woman with the wrinkled nose straightened out her badge, Ashley saw it as a subliminal threat. It came without saying that Ashley's controversial stance on the fate of the "Sally Face Killer" had provided her with lots of heat from those following the story and case. Ashley felt Larry put his hand on her shoulder, although he remained invisible as to not draw attention to himself. It's as if he was telling her to let it slide, and thus she followed suit.

"Officer, Sal Fisher was my best friend-"

"Oh, I know. I've seen you on the news."

"-and I was just wondering if I could. . .see where he last was. I think it would help me cope to pay my respects there."

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you back there."

Damn, she was afraid of that. There had to be some way to get back there. For her there were no other options. Upon searching the room to find a tangible excuse, she instead found her eyes rested on the Officer's computer background. It was a painting.

"Wanderer above the Sea of Frog?"

Ashley asked rhetorically. Officer Nellie turned around to look back at her screensaver backdrop.

"Oh yes, I just adore the works of Friedrich. How did you know the name of the painting? Do you have an appreciation for art such as I?"

"Well, I don't mean to toot my own horn here, but I'm actually an art student," Ashley smiled coyly. She could hear Larry roll his eyes at her fibbing. She left art school nearly a month ago. She couldn't truly play the artist card without stretching it out a little bit, but Ashley showed no signs of wavering on it. Officer Nellie's eyes lit up in excitement. A young artist was in her presence. Right then she stood up out of her chair, completely blocking the painting of the man looking down at the mountains.

"Really? How wonderful!"

"I have some pictures of my art saved to my cell," Ashley smiled. She could hear Larry groan at her boasting while walking in circles. He was getting harder and harder to ignore. When the woman looked over the desk, Ashley made it a point to bring up her best work. "I do landscape paintings as well. I can paint you something if you'd like. I'll even do it for free."

"Free? Really?"

"Of course. It's the least I can do to thank you for defending our country," Ash smiled.

"OH COME ON!" She heard Larry yell-whisper. The policewoman's eyes twinkled at the young woman. Such elegant art from such an elegant lady. It seemed criminal of her to assume such a lovely girl had bad intentions, so she wrote her number on a notecard and held Ashley's hand. In return Ashley smiled while Larry mumbled "You've got to be kidding me" over and over to himself in the background. They were having a moment! How was that so abominable? It's not as if Ashley was lying about the free commission. She would actually paint for the woman. After all, painting was a hobby she indulged in every day. It would do her no harm, and it would give officer Nellie the false lead that the two girls were friends.

"Sweetie you're good to go. I, officer Nellie, give you permission to go and pay respects to your dear friend. Call me when you're done with your art. I can tell you have a wonderful future ahead of you dear."

"Your painting will be even greater than that of Friedrich! I'll make sure of it!" She beamed. With that the two women shared a nod and Ashley was directed to the left. From there it was a matter of following the maps and maintaining the confidence of someone who wasn't sneaking around. There were so many twists and turns in the building that Larry and Ashley felt as though it was intentionally trapping them inside. They soon remembered that unlike the Addison Apartments, Nockfell Prison was a normal prison that was not haunted at all. Walls and rooms became repetitive to the point of mimicking an optical illusion, and Ashley felt that she was backtracking more than moving forward.

"I thought you said you saw the room he was executed in?" Larry asked.

"I did, but there were a lot of people around there as well. At this point I don't know how we'll be able to-" Ashley stopped talking. Her feet halted at an immediate stop, pointed squarely at the door of the goal. Shivers coursed through her body and suddenly her skin felt tight. The position she was in. . .she was there just days earlier banging on the door and screaming so hard she lost her voice from those few seconds. It became an enormous struggle to keep herself from indulging in heavy flashbacks of watching a man get electrocuted while holding the evidence that he was of no evil. Larry's eyes lowered as he could tell by Ash's reaction that they had reached the right room. Ash brought a shaky hand to the door only to tighten her grip when the knob wouldn't turn. "Locked," she spat painfully. Larry shrugged before walking through the wall and opening the door from the inside. Ash made no comment, keeping her eyes stuck on the chair as if prying them away was impossible. It was Sal's chair. Sal. Sal. She removed the SuperGearboy from her pocket and turned back to Larry. "How does this work?"

"Let me do it," he nodded before snatching it from Ashley's clammy fingers. After examining it he began to press a series of buttons that looked from the outside as if he was just button-mashing. Ashley's nose crinkled as she watched how very not methodical Larry's methods were and how his face was that of someone who was concentrating on some very complicated formula. In the middle of this mashing, a green light slowly began to emit from the device. Then came the neon green static that blinded Ashley enough so she had to look away. Maybe Sal's prosthetic mask blocked some of his vision in his left eye. None of her eyes were glass so she had to take double the force. When it was over, she turned around to find Sal standing only a mere few feet away.

He kept his prosthetic mask on and his long messy hair hung over it in strings. His cuffs were broken although still around his wrist, and his orange jumpsuit was torn. He looked like a shorter, sadder, more blue-haired Jason cosplay, but that was surprisingly accurate. Sal Fisher was authentic, creepy or not. Nobody was more real than him when he was there, basking in the awe held by his two companions. After being unexpectedly zapped from the other side he was visibly out of breath. His voice was low which was a rarity for someone of his height. Ashley remembers the first time she heard him speak. It surprised her so much mostly due to the fact that as a child Sal dressed in a more gender ambiguous fashion. This made sense considering how little Sal cared about social constructs regarding what made someone male or female.

For almost two seconds Sal and Ashley kept an insanely intense eye contact. Even though Ashley couldn't fully see Sal's expression under the mask, she compromised by showing enough emotion for the two of them. Instantly after the man came back Ashley had begun to sniffle like a little kid. After registering the woman's tears that were directed towards him, Sal's eyes widened. He almost looked as if he was going to console her when a very familiar ghost caught his eye. After what felt like forever, Sal got on his toes to peer over her shoulder at Larry who had his hands in his pockets, trying to look for something to keep his eyes occupied. Sal winced and spoke his light New Jersey accent through gritted and ground teeth.

"I'm gonna kill you."


	2. I Still Dream About Her

When Sal came charging at Larry like a bullet, Ashley was forced to snap out of her crying spell. After she proceeded to watch Sal Fisher kick Larry Johnson in the stomach then tackle him to the ground. Ashley went wide-eyed, she had never seen Sal so angry before. Besides the only time the two of them ever argued she had never seen Sal rustled by anything. Nevertheless, the man in the orange prison jacket proceeded to slap Larry in the face who was just as surprised by his outburst.

“Three years! Three years Larry, and I was stuck here doing. . .nothing! I had nothing! Do you know what they served every Wednesday for lunch! Bologna sandwiches! Until I was given special meal privileges I had to pay inmates to take it off my hands since we could not waste food!” Larry tried to get away but Sal was mad and not moving for anyone. He liked his spot sitting across Larry, who was at that point struggling like a child underneath him. All that time in Prison definitely put a good amount of muscle on Sal, which surprised both Ashley and Larry. He wasn’t exactly buff but wasn’t a twig either. The fight between the two brothers only escalated as Sal was giving Larry no time to provide an escalation. The girl in the room just kept quiet while also keeping an eye peered for any incoming staff members.

“Ow! You’re crazy, get off me!” Larry was then kicking desperately at Sal who was struggling to hold him by the shirt. After a second Sal took a momentary break to slip off his mask before pelting Larry with it. “You’re hitting me with your prosthetic?! Ow--Ashley! He’s hitting me with his mask! Make him stop!” Upon the mention of Ashley, Sal changed his expression to one of surprise, as if his anger at Larry had kept him from fully seeing her. When he came to, he slipped his mask back on while keeping steady eye contact with her. He got up and stepped over Larry as if he wasn’t even there.

“Ashley. . .” He began. Big blue eyes stared up at her like they were seeing her for the very first time. She had played such a pivotal role in his life, especially in the trial. To him, Ashley wasn’t someone who was against him, despite her testimony. What she said was that she wanted him alive, and she was the only one in his trial who held that opinion. Larry threw his hands up in frustration at Sal’s sudden switch in mood while Sal himself just kept his eyes on the cute and lovely Ashley. A lump of guilt caught her throat while she struggled to express her sniffling. He was really back. He was really there. “. . .Hi,” he whispered. Ashley cleared her throat.

“Ahem. Sal, I-I am so s. . .sorry I didn’t believe you, and I know--”

“Stop,” he ordered, throwing his hands in front of him in protest. Sal shook his head in disapproval. “You believed I did it because I did. I didn’t tell you my story until the day you testified, and even so, you still held the opinion that I shouldn’t die because of my choice. The picture of Larry’s ghost was the last idea it had but it wasn’t the only one. I did see you on the news for the last three years. . .I knew you were trying. You even repealed my case--more than once at that.” He paused and put his hand on his heart to intensify his gratitude. “Thank you, Ash.” His lack of disappointment was more than unexpected and left Ashley ultimately bewildered and speechless. Within her own heart she knew that even if Sal were to ever be upset at her it would never have been for too long. Maybe it was because he had no mother, or just because he was gentle, but Sal Fisher always treated women like queens. Larry got up and wiped his bloody nose.

“I have something for you Sal,” He said when bringing out a purple stone from his pocket. Sal’s nose scrunched under his mask bringing it up a slight bit.

“What’s that?”

“It’s called the deadstone. Rosenberg’s ghost gave it to me the day of the red eyes infestation. If you squeeze it you can temporarily use its power to leave your place of death.” Sal gave a skeptical look before rubbing his fingers across the stone with interest.

“Are you sure?”

“Well, no. She did something different to me."

“. . .How long does it last?”

“It varies.”

“Why do you want me to leave?” Sal persisted. Being spiritually asleep for so long it made sense that he was on edge. Tense. Distrusting. He chewed the side of his mouth as he reluctantly watched Ashley attempt to explain.

“Sal. . .things aren’t what they’re supposed to be. We think--”

“I’m assuming Larry told you that the Dr.Enon that declared me a liar was an imposter.”

“What?” Ashley asked, turning around. Larry shrugged.  
“How was I supposed to know? Did he come back? Ashley, he died at the foot of the treehouse. He fell out after seeing me as a ghost. Didn’t you know that?” Ashley was frozen, then she was yelling, causing Sal to jolt. His crossed arms just tightened as she flailed about.

“Know that--OF COURSE! OBVIOUSLY DIDN’T! That’s why the imposter said he didn’t see you!” She then turned to Sal with a tinge of pity in her stance. Of course Sal Fisher had told the truth. That’s the sort of man he was and the sort of man he had always been. Instead of getting all riled up however, he just stared at the ground in contempt.

“Well, we can’t do anything about it now.”

“Yes, we can actually. You might not be coming back but there’s something you can help us with,” Larry said stepping forward. He fixed his posture and Ash backed away so he could stand in front of Sal. “We have reason to believe that Chug and Soda weren’t infected by the Red-Eyes curse. There also might be a way for you to come back. The Devourers of God have a goal to provide a wandering spirit with a body, and they’ve succeeded. It’s not so much of a stretch to believe that they can also bring back the dead, and and Todd has been in communion with their subject for the last three years. You’re probably the only person who can reach him. If you do--”

“Then we can find out how to bring back Chug and Soda, maybe even--”

“Fine,” Sal said. He unwillingly crammed the stone as hard as he could between his two hands while holding his breath. After a few moments there was a purple aura emanating from the stone, and he held it up to the light. “The heck is going on with this thing, is it broken?” He asked rhetorically, before flicking the stone with a free hand.

“That means it’s working,” Larry nodded. After the aura faded, Sal tossed the stone back to Larry and turned to the girl.

“Should I try leaving the room?”

“Yeah, my bike is outside.” Larry and Sal followed Ashley out the door and to Sal’s surprise, the stone had worked. He was so glad to finally be out of that room The three walked quietly through the halls before Larry and Sal floated past the receptionist. Officer Nellie stopped breathing, and the trio stopped dead in their tracks. Sal and Larry had forgotten to become invisible after leaving the execution room and then all throughout the hallway.The whole lobby was silent for a good thirty seconds. Nobody dared to move. Officer Nellie wasn’t even sure what she was supposed to do or who she was supposed to call.  
"Achoo!"

Larry had just sneezed, causing Officer Nellie to faint in her chair at the realization that there were two ghosts in front of her. Sal just put his hands on his hips while Ashley covered her mouth. There was another, much shorter silence before Sal found himself growing tired at the scenery.

“Well, we should get out of here before she wakes up.”

“Sal!” Ashley snapped. When she turned around Sal was already opening the door while Larry was following him. The brunette brother turned around to the exasperated female.

“I’m with Sal on this one. It’ll get worse if you wake her.” Even while arguing the two thought alike. Nothing could fully separate them it seemed. Ashley scoffed and rolled her eyes before walking towards the door, eyes locked on her bike. Sal watched her walk dangerously close to him with a sense of wonder. He hadn’t seen her as close as she did while walking past him in a very long time. When Sal closed the door, he found Larry standing next to the bike with his hands in his pockets--like usual. “Well Sal,” he sighed, “I can walk there. Only one of us can sit on the bike and Ashley has a lot to talk with you about.”

“Where are we going?”

“My apartment,” Ashley answered, putting on her helmet. She sat on her bike before patting the back seat with her right hand. “Turn yourself invisible and hop on. My brother leaves his clothes at my place. You can get a new change and a place to sleep. I think we still have a GameBoy too.” Absolutely heartwarming. Sal Fisher nodded and immediately turned fully ghost on Ashley, fading like a simple cloud. She felt him hop on and his arms wrap around her torso like they did three years prior. That’s when it hit both of them that they really haven’t seen each other in three years. They haven’t ridden Ashley’s bike since 2003. Hearts became heavy very quickly, and Larry patted Sal’s back in an effort to encourage him in his unusually intimate friendship with Ashley.  
“Don’t worry, you’re still a smooth criminal, Sally Face. In fact, you don’t look a day over 22,” Larry whispered.

“I’m 25,” Sal snapped through gritted teeth. Although Larry was right, he did look a bit young. If prison would do one thing for him, Sal would want it to have been to make him look a little more mature. Larry put up his hands and frowned at his companion's deadly tone. Ashley wasn’t even a year older than Sal, but Sal’s complex about his height made his physical maturity a very touchy subject for him. The only thing he had to compensate for being two inches shorter was his voice. Larry backed away and watched Ashley hit the gas. Then the two were off. The ride was short, but it gave the two a long time to think. Well, there wasn’t so much thinking as there was reminiscing. The bright blue cloudless sky made the air all the more fresher, and then they passed Wendigo Lake which made them both smile softly.

Then, Sal remembered something about the trial. When asked about their trip to Wendigo Lake as a date, Ashley didn’t deny that it was a date. Sal was surprised and a little confused at this revelation, but he had no time to consider what that meant before he was in the garage of Ashley’s apartment building. She stopped the bike and took off her helmet, shaking her helmet hair like a messy dog would shake after a bath.

“What room are we in?” Sal asked. Ashley slipped him a sly grin.

“Room 402.”

“Of course,” he chuckled. Walking behind Ashley without her noticing made Sal feel a little creepy, even more so than the fact that the receptionist had no idea he was there. When walking up the stairs Sal noticed that Ashley had scrapes on her leg.

“Whoa, were you biking in the forest?” He unthinkingly joked.

“SHH!” She spat. Of course. Someone might hear him. In actuality she had received those scratch-like marks from sitting down on the floor of the tree-house for so long. Of course, she would never tell Sal that. When on Ashley’s floor, Sal finally realized how normal her home looked when compared to Addison Apartments. She opened the door to a clean and tidy apartment that had Ashley Campbell written all over it. It was almost comical.  
The biker boots that Ashley never wore were sitting by the door flopped over. The carpet was worn but a very nice shade of purple. When Ashley locked the door behind her, Sal took a moment and walked to the kitchen. There was tape on her counter that was supposed to keep her from biting her nails. Of course it looked like she hadn’t touched the roll of tape in a few days. In fact, it looked to Sal like she hadn’t been in her apartment at all since. . .around his execution. Despair choked his throat dry so that he didn’t comment on his observations. Ashley head directly to the fridge and chucked cold cuts onto the table before viciously opening a plastic container of sliced ham with her teeth. Sal watched on with his hands behind his back, feeling a bit out of place.

“MMM. . .Food ish sho goof saw!(a/n: *Food is so good sal, for those who can’t speak gibberish)” Ashley cried. The man’s eyes darted back and forth before leaning in closer.

“Have you. . .have you not been eating for the last three days?” Ashley paused before harboring a defensive tone at Sal, then swallowing while moving the cheese and meats farther out of Sal’s reach.

“. . .I’ve been drinking.” Sal sighed and crossed his arms, letting his eyes explore the apartment for the very first time. Soon enough his eyes caught themselves in the reflection of the toaster. He had grown a little, measuring up to maybe 5’5 at the most, being that he was a very late bloomer in when he actually hit puberty. Even so, three inches in height felt like it wasn’t nearly enough growth to cover all of the time that passed in prison. To Sal, it felt like so much longer than three years, to the point that he felt he didn’t belong in the real world. The real world just felt so surreal to him that he felt he didn’t belong there anymore. It posed the question of where would he belong? His mood dulled at the disheartening thought. Before becoming too lost in the idea, Ashley turned around, and subsequently shocking him out of his melancholy daze.

“--Sal! Earth to Fisher!”

“Wuh?”

“There you are.I was asking if you wanted to take a shower? Ben left some of his clothes here last time he visited.”

“Oh sure.” As Sal spun around to search for the shower, Ashley stopped him.

“Wait,” she ordered. He halted. “Do ghosts even need to shower?” Sal paused for a moment before responding in a questioning voice.

“Uh, why would being a ghost keep me from getting dirty?” Ashley cocked her head to the side momentarily before nodding in acknowledgement.

“You’re right. I’ll leave the clothes outside the shower. There should be some towels in there.” Sal walked off and with each step her voice subsequently became more distant. It was also softened by the excruciating buzzing in his head. The ringing. The blaring white noise. It was coming from the other side and while he could step further to the other side by slipping out of visibility, he vouched not to. The horrific tension from the ghost realm only made it less appealing to him. He wanted to be with Ashley. His thoughts were interrupted by the bathroom door which stuck out to him from the corner of his eye. He flicked on the light switch and could feel himself smirk against the plastic of his mask. There was purple everywhere. Purple and black.  
Above the towels hung a painting so beautifully articulate that even Ashley’s greatest admirer assumed it had been done by a professional. Well, he would have except for the fact that the contents of the painting consisted of Wendigo Lake as well as two small friends sitting in the distance, staring on. One brunette, one with blue hair. His eyes darted to Ashley’s signature in the Top right hand corner--small, but noticeable against the pale blue sky. Sometime within the period of time that Sal Fisher had spent in confinement, Ashley Campbell had taken upon herself to create something beautiful. . .that had a criminal in the picture. Sal looked away, for he felt remorse shoot him in the liver despite having nothing to do with the creation of the painting.

Once he stepped into the shower Sal let out a heavy sigh of relief. The water droplets dragging across his sin seemed to massage the inside of his soul. It was absolutely rejuvenating. Sadly it felt to him that no shower could make him clean as long as he took it in prison. While in prison he would often scrub the same spots until he was asked to leave the showers, or until an inmate noticed him bleeding. He just always felt dirty. It probably had something to do with him murdering several of his close friends. Sal put his face in his hands and took a shaky breath. All this time he still hoped deep down that this was all a nightmare. The last four years were just a nightmare, right? It was a stupidly unrealistic thought but it was the only thought he had that could give him some sort of peace.

After washing his hair and face he turned off the water and opened the shower curtain to find that Ashley had thrown in his attire and collected his laundry while he was wallowing in his own shame. She always took care of him that way, and the alien feeling of being taken care of stung his chest and eyes. He blinked away the tears of gratitude and pulled up red boxer shorts. They were a bit long but they fit fine. Under was a black band tee that was just as large in the shorts but again, he could fit into it. Sal made a note to find out where Ash’s brother found such stylish outfits because he was certainly loving what he saw in the mirror. That was mostly because he hadn’t looked up to grimace at his own face. Ever since his crime he hadn’t looked at his own face without immediately shielding his eyes with his hand and turning to the side.

Sal walked out after strapping his mask on to wander around the apartment quietly. He found Ashley’s room ajar and leaned to peak in. That’s when he kicked the door to the side and began to walk in with a surprising amount of thrill coursing through his body. Ashley had kept Sal’s guitar. He didn’t know why--he was the musician, she was the artist. Nonetheless, he saw she had kept his amp as well, and it looked as if she had been cleaning both items on a regular basis. One of the most devastating parts of prison was that he had not played his precious stratocaster for the past three years. Not a single chord, not a single note. It was probably way out of tune, but he didn’t care. Filled with wonder and excitement he took the guitar and bounced onto Ashley’s bed, taking the time to just look at it. It was his everything in that moment.

“I kept your guitar,” Ashley commented looking a bit sheepish in front of her own door which looked to have been closed for a while. Sal jolted to the direction of her voice before relaxing his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” He just looked to the side, unsure of what to say. The calm gave them both enough to think, and once they had done so they realized how incredibly damper the mood was for so long. Trying to relax became more stressful than remaining tense and distressed as they’ve done so for three years. Ashley walked over stiffly and sat on the bed on Sal’s side, noticeably distant from him. “I. . .I know you don’t like coffee so I’m making tea if you want some.”  
“Thank you,” he spoke, nearly whispering. She nodded and crossed her legs, shifting to his direction. Sal didn’t move. Ashley looked him up and down, noticing tattoos that wrapped around his arms. There were some on his hands and knuckles as well. There was a blue jay on his arm surrounded by clouds and some dates in roman numerals across his knuckles. It was the date Larry died. They were decent looking for prison tattoos despite being obviously unprofessional. She knew that Sal would one day act on his dream of getting tattooed, but she wished that it had been done outside prison walls. Ashley opened her mouth to speak.

“I--”

“Ashley why would you paint that?” Of course she knew what he was referring to. He didn’t even need to look at her, as the way her breath hitched was an indicator that she had panicked a bit.

“Well, I. . .wanted to paint it.”

“Yeah but why was I in it?” He pushed. Ashley pulled her shirt over her mouth and leaned her elbow on her knee, visibly embarrassed of her reasoning. If Sal wasn’t wearing his mask she would see a look of both confusion and intrigue.

“You know, I’ve tried going back to the lake. It seems that. . .that day is when it was most beautiful to me.” Even without knowing the obvious implications Sal was incredibly moved by her soft and shaky words. There was literally nothing special about that day except the fact that he had been sitting next to her. The weather was usual. The lake was usual. It was an incredibly ordinary outing but they made it fun and. . .beautiful. Ashley’s face heated up the longer the silence was drawn out, and Sal began to strum the guitar. It made barely any sound as it wasn’t plugged in, but it was loud enough to snap Ashley out of her humiliation.

“So,” He began. “Why do you think we can bring back Chug and Soda?” Ashley immediately regained her composure and she sat back up while Sal began to tune his guitar by ear. He was still incredibly skilled at it, and would brag to Larry how it was like riding a bike after the first time he got it right.

“Larry is the one who suggested the idea. The say of the Red-Eyes Infestation he saw everyone from the otherside while you two were running around the apartments uplifting the curse, right?” Sal blinked at her with interest.

“Yeah?”

“Well, when Larry saw them, they looked different from the other souls. Everyone who was infected had had these glowing eyes and was flooded with this black webbing. Chug and Soda just looked normal, almost like ghosts--” She was interrupted by Sal who had let his guitar hang, bringing his hands to cover his false mouth. He was hunched over, shaking with disbelief and horror because he had realized the full implications. If Ashley was right, there was no need for him to have murdered Chug and Soda. He did have a choice. Ashley quickly picked up, not wanting to let Sal have enough time to let the facts ruin him more than they already have.

“. . .Anyways, I know there must be a way to bring them here from the other side if that’s really what The Devourers of God have been doing. I think it’s somewhere in the tomes but I can’t get into the apartments anymore. Addison Apartments completely shut down after what happened. We need your help.” There was a long silence. Sal was shaking so much that Ashley didn’t know how much he had registered. She slowly removed the guitar from him and as she leaned in she could hear a faint wheezing. After removing his mask, Ashley put her arm around him. “Are you gonna throw up?” She whispered. He nodded in response so she jumped up, dragging her trashcan over to him.  
Sal nearly ripped it from her hands, and immediately began puking his lungs out while crying. Seeing him like that tore Ashley’s heart to shreds. He was doubled over in the pain of truth and loss. Barely anything came out of his mouth as ghosts don’t have to eat, but there was some old ghost prison food that came out. After that it was just gagging, retching, and hysterical sobbing. Seeing someone you love cry so desperately in pain is like a knot in your stomach being crushed by an anvil. It sends shivers down your spine with mortification and such a terrifying amount of sheer sadness. That feeling owned Ashley Campbell completely, and she couldn’t do anything.

After a few minutes Sal had begun to calm down. He was still shaking and visibly traumatized but he had stopped gagging. His tears fell slower as he let the depression take over him. They just sat like that, with Ashley’s hand now tightly interlocked with Sal’s, her other hand covering both of theirs. Once Sal had caught his breath he put his hand on hers, which surprised Ashley. He still dare not make eye contact with her, although he had begun to face her.

“We’ll get there through the Phelps Ministry,” he grumbled. Ashley smiled faintly and brought Sal into a tight embrace. He let his arms hang loosely, still overshadowed by his own depression regarding what he had just heard.

“Yes Sal, we’ll do it. Tomorrow we can talk to Travis, it’ll be okay. We’ll get through this Sal, we’ll get through this.” Sal had no response except for closing his eyes and letting a single tear slip under his mask. He just wanted to melt into Ashley and not think about anything else. If he stayed like that he wouldn’t have to think about anything except the reassurance and faith she gave him. There was nothing else like that in the whole world and he thought he could drown in it. The noise seemed so much softer when he could hear her breathing, and know she was alive. He knew she was near. Suddenly he ripped apart from her, the noise of the tea now becoming the loudest.

“You left the stove on!” He exclaimed. Ashley slapped her forehead.

“Oh right, the tea! I’ll go get it!” She bounced up and threw the door open, trying not to trip as she ran down the stairs for the tea. Sal could have smiled to himself at how funny her clumsiness was at any other time. At that moment all he felt was sadness that increased with her distance. Even though she had observed him and interacted with him multiple times while he was unmasked, he felt safer with it on. He couldn’t take it off in prison, so it did feel like he was taking off his own face. After putting it back on, he fell onto the bed, squishing his face into the pillow. There was a lot to be done. He was the only one who knew about the reason for Todd’s mental instability. Sal knitted his brows together in concentration and contemplation.  
By learning how the cult had brought the Red-Eyed Demon to the physical realm, there was a possibility that they could use that information to reverse it, banishing the Red-Eyed Demon from Todd’s body. When he realized that, Ashley walked into the room in a timely manner with two steaming mugs in her hands.

“It’s very hot so you’ll have to wait.”

“Todd is possessed by the Red-Eyed Demon,” Sal blurted. Ashley just stared back at him and he continued on. Rambling around Ashley was the closest thing he could get to the way he was a few years prior. “That’s why he’s unstable and why he ran away, Ash. He spoke to me before the police showed up and he described a ritual the cult did to him. They kidnapped him. His eyes are even red now. I know that if we really can learn how they brought him back, maybe we can figure out how to get rid of the Red-Eyes.” There was no movement after that. The woman was too frightened and shocked by the news to even spout a comment or suggestion. Instead Ashley just set down the tea tray before resting her hands on the table in defeat.

“It makes sense,” she admitted. Sal nodded. Ashley turned to him, eyes wet with frustration and emotional exhaustion. “Do you think we can still bring him back after he’s been possessed for so long? That’s why the infestation happened, right? That was over three years ago.” Sal got up and walked over to her, putting a hand around one of the mugs and another on the tray. Ashley was beginning to break. The way she had held it together for most of the day was enough to take a toll on the strongest person in the world, and Sal only admired that. He also felt the urge to put her in his pocket so she could be safe, but it would feel sort of silly to ever tell her that out loud.

“We won’t know until we try now, will we?” Ashley sniffed. It wasn’t that having a mentally insane friend wasn’t traumatizing, but knowing that he shared the body and mind of a demonic creature. . .that was the final blow. She began to hiccup and Sal put his mug down, lightly touching her back and staring with concern in his eyes. At Wendigo Lake she boasted about how she never cried, but ever since she saw Sal executed she was tearing up at nearly everything, and Sal felt entirely responsible. Ashley was of average height but she never looked so small and fragile as when she held herself and stifled her cries in front of Sal. He leaned in and whispered to her. “We’ll get him back.” Being deeply saddened as well, his words didn’t sound very enthusiastic. She just cried harder, and Sal felt himself tearing up all over again. They were on an emotional roller coaster that never ended and it was nauseating.

“Ashley,” he croaked. “Can I sleep here, instead of the couch?” She nodded and brought her hands to his, intertwining their fingers again.

‘Y-yes, just. . .don’t leave me.” She was sobbing again, this time louder, and Sal grabbed her and pulled her into a hug, holding her firmly. If he had held her any tighter it would probably have hurt her. They began to walk to the bed still holding one another, for they feared that if one were to let go the other would truly leave. Ashley clung to Sal like a monkey as he kicked her comforter out of the way before lying down comfortably on the bed, all while wrapped in Ashley. He pulled the blanket over them both and nuzzled his nose into her hair, breathing her in above her crying frame. Just as overwhelmed with emotional exhaustion, Sal began to sob into her once more.


End file.
